Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Two: Nature
XIV
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| I DREADED that first robin so, | |
| But he is mastered now, | |
| And I ’m accustomed to him grown,— | |
| He hurts a little, though. | |
| |
| I thought if I could only live | 5 |
| Till that first shout got by, | |
| Not all pianos in the woods | |
| Had power to mangle me. | |
| |
| I dared not meet the daffodils, | |
| For fear their yellow gown | 10 |
| Would pierce me with a fashion | |
| So foreign to my own. | |
| |
| I wished the grass would hurry, | |
| So when ’t was time to see, | |
| He ’d be too tall, the tallest one | 15 |
| Could stretch to look at me. | |
| |
| I could not bear the bees should come, | |
| I wished they ’d stay away | |
| In those dim countries where they go: | |
| What word had they for me? | 20 |
| |
| They ’re here, though; not a creature failed, | |
| No blossom stayed away | |
| In gentle deference to me, | |
| The Queen of Calvary. | |
| |
| Each one salutes me as he goes, | 25 |
| And I my childish plumes | |
| Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment | |
| Of their unthinking drums. | |
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